Slaves of the Copper Coast Ch. 02

* On her eighteenth birthday, Rebecca daCastro's father buys her a very special present -- a slave-girl. Her very own slave-girl who will attend to her every need. Even better, it is one of her ex-school friends who has fallen on hard times. But will the two girls get on?

This story is set just after my earlier story, 'Slaves of the Copper Coast' and includes some of the same characters. However, it is a stand-alone story and you do not need to have read 'Slaves of the Copper Coast' to enjoy it.

* WARNING! This book contains scenes of a sexual nature, graphic violence against women and strong language, It is not intended for the easily offended or persons under eighteen years. You have been warned, so if you read on, don't blame me.

* The names, characters, places and events in this book are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

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SLAVES OF THE COPPERCOAST2.

CHAPTER 1.

'It is a truth universally acknowledged that a young person in possession of sufficient funds must be in want of a slave-girl.'

Rebecca daCastro walked up from Kresto Abrikoto, or Apricot Ridge's, suburban train station running through the text of 'Pride and Punishment' in her head. She looked on as the little green train pulled away with a puff of steam as it headed to the next station down the line. The two rear carriages, little more than cattle trucks with canvas awnings slung over them, were still full of slaves.

She watched the slaves chatter under the hot tropical sun until the train vanished into a cutting.

Rebecca hurried to catch up with her friend, Alicia Bartro, who was walking up the hill closely followed by her slave-girl, Kyli. Their shadows were just starting to lengthen as the hot day shaded towards late afternoon.

At a glance, the two girls ahead were alike. Both were blonde and willowy. Their heads were close together as they talked almost as friends; owner and slave. For a moment, Rebecca was jealous of her friend. She'd love a slave-girl of her own rather than having to make do with one of her family's household slaves.

She carried on watching them until she caught up to the two young women. Closer, you could see the differences between them. Alicia had her hair in fashionable chignon whilst Kyli wore hers in a simple pony tail. Also, Alicia Bartro wore the smart grey uniform of the private school both she and Rebecca attended together with a straw hat. Despite the tropical heat, the uniform skirt came all the way down to Alicia's ankles. A most respectable length.

However, Kyli wore only a simple sleeveless shift dress that stopped at her knees, showing the girl's well-turned calves. Most immodest, thought Rebecca, but then slaves have no need or understanding of modesty unlike free people.

Another difference was that it was Kyli who carried a parasol shading her mistress from the sun's hot rays together with her mistress's heavy book bag and gym kit. But that's another thing, thought Rebecca. Slaves are no more than beasts of burden. It's not like they have the same feelings as free people. They like to be useful.

And it had been scientifically proved by Doctor Humboldt last year that slaves don't feel pain the same as free people. That's why you have to whip them so often. They'd covered that at school this morning. No wonder mother had ordered Cook to thrash her chamber maid, Luci, for the second time this week.

Rebecca caught up to her friend. With a sigh of relief, she swung her book bag down from her shoulder and handed it to Kyli for the slave-girl to carry as well. Rebecca was glad to be free of its dead weight bearing down on her shoulder. The breeze cooled her perspiration.

"What do you say?" Alicia said to Kyli.

"Sorry, miss. Thank you, miss," Kyli said quietly to Rebecca.

"I shouldn't have to keep reminding you," Alicia told her slave.

"No, miss."

But then Rebecca and Alicia fell to talking leaving Kyli to bring up the rear. And there was a lot to talk about. It was Rebecca's eighteenth birthday today and her parents were holding a party that evening for their family and friends. Rebecca was looking forward to it. Today she was an adult.

Soon, Alicia Bartro and Kyli turned off at their mansio. Alicia's family were easily the richest in Kresto Abrikoto and Alicia had owned a slave-girl for many years. With a little curtsey, Kyli returned Rebecca's book bag. Not for the first time, Rebecca wished she owned her very own slave-girl so she didn't have to carry the heavy bag in this sticky heat.

Rebecca walked on to her villa. Lush tropical flowers covered the building. She stepped up past the portico and into the cooler, wood panelled entrance hall. Rebecca paused with surprise as she saw her parents waiting for her.

"Happy birthday, Rebecca. Your eighteenth birthday present is waiting for you in the next room."

Rebecca was so excited. Her parents were wealthy and loved their only daughter so she expected something generous. "Oh, Daddy. What is it? Is it that ruby and diamond necklace I saw in de Graaf's jewellers? Or my own pony and buggy?"

Rebecca's father shook her head. He laughed. "A pony and buggy wouldn't fit inside the villa, would it? No, when I saw it, I knew you'd want it. Why don't we go in and see what's waiting for you."

Rebecca clapped her hands with excitement. Her mother and father looked at each other and smiled. After years of effort, Rebecca's father had recently been elected to the rank of Konsilanto or Councillor. He was now on the city council of Haveno Ananaso, Kupro Marbordo's capital. He'd worked so hard for this and now he wanted to celebrate his elevation - together with the increase in his earnings. Behind her parents, the family's slaves stood in a group and watched. They were all in on the secret. The only one who wasn't was Rebecca herself.

Their majordomo bowed. He was a dignified older male slave wearing a short-sleeved white shirt and grey shorts as well as his thin steel collar. He'd been with the family for years -- before Rebecca was even born. He opened the double doors to the daCastro's dining room. Rebecca ran in, her long skirts swishing as she passed. She couldn't wait to find out what her parents had bought her. Dim light filtered in through shuttered windows together with scents from their garden. She paused and looked about her.

On their large table laid for twenty dinner guests stood a display of fresh fruits. Wine glasses and silverware sparkled. It took up much of the room. A dresser took up most of one wall. Salvers and vases stood on its top. Paintings covered the walls. Landscapes of Old Iberia, her family's ancestral homeland, mixed with portraits of various ancestors. A baroque marble fireplace dominated another wall. At this time of year its grate was filled with cut flowers. Their fragrance scented the room.

Rebecca turned round and looked at her father.

"I can't see anything, Daddy," she said. Disappointment in her voice.

"Look by the fireplace," her mother called.

Rebecca walked around the table. No, she still couldn't see anything.

She pulled up short. Surprised and confused now. Kneeling by the fireplace was one of her school friends. The girl was wearing a simple sleeve-less dress.

"Amanda? What are you doing down there? Have you been invited to dinner?" She was surprised. Although Amanda went to her private school, their families didn't mix socially. Amanda's family was nowhere near as wealthy as the daCastros; the girl's father managed a department store in Haveno Ananaso or something.

Although thinking about it, she hadn't seen Amanda at school recently. There'd been a rumour that the girl's family had lost a lot of money when the Kupro Marbordo stock exchange took a nosedive over artificial fertilisers.

Rebecca didn't understand that sort of thing at all. She knew her father didn't gamble and he regarded stocks and shares with as much suspicion. He tended to invest in safer funds rather than higher risk ones. However, from gossip around the school, some of the other students' parents had lost money in the crash.

Rebecca held out her hands and drew up her school friend. Then she got the shock of her evening. A thin steel collar encircled her neck. Rebecca looked over her shoulder at her father. The man was trying hard not to laugh but he couldn't hold it back. He hooted with laughter like it was the best joke ever. Eventually, he calmed down enough to speak.

"Now you're eighteen, Becca, it's time you had your own personal slave-girl. The responsibility will do you good." He laughed again.

"Yes, it'll be your duty to train and discipline your very own slave-girl. She'll look after you, but it'll do you good to be in charge of another human being."

"But why Amanda, Daddy? She goes to school with me," said Rebecca.

"Not any more, Becca. Her father had to sell her to pay off his debts and when he approached me privately I knew she'd be perfect for you. Do you like her? Did I choose well?"

"Oh, Daddy, she's perfect. Thank you, thank you." With that, Rebecca dropped Amanda's hands, raced round the dining table and flew into her father's arms. She kissed him several times before breaking away.

"I hope she behaves herself and gets on all right here," Senhor daCastro said. "Of course, she's had some initial training at the Domo de Korekto but she will still need to be finished off and taught our ways. I thought you might like to do that."

He paused. "Oh, by the way she's not called 'Amanda' any more. Her slave name is 'Amna'."

Rebecca glanced over her shoulder at her father's words. At the mention of the Domo de Korekto, the House of Correction, she saw Amanda, or Amna as she should call her now, shudder. The Domo de Korekto was the house where slaves received their initial training. Rebecca had heard it was very painful and few slaves were willing to talk about it.

"Why don't you take your new slave-girl up to your room? She can help you prepare for your birthday banquet tonight, darling," said Senhora daCastro, her mother.

With that, Rebecca beckoned to Amna who followed her new mistress out of the dining room, into the vaulted hall then up the sweeping staircase to her bedroom. Once inside the privacy of her bedroom, Rebecca turned to Amna.

"What happened?"

There were tears in Amna's eyes now.

"Oh, Becca, it's like your father said. My Dad thought he could make a lot of money too quickly and as everyone was investing in those chlorate stocks, those horrible artificial fertilisers, but he didn't know the stock market that well and he lost all his money so he had to sell me to pay off some of his debts and now he's working as a humble clerk back at the department store and it's just horrible, Becca..." the words tumbled from the slave-girl's mouth.

"Stop. What did you just call me?" asked Rebecca.

Amna thought for a moment. "Oh, sorry. I should've said mistress. Sorry."

Rebecca grinned. "I'll let you off this once. But don't let it happen again."

"No miss, sorry miss," said Amna returning her grin.

"You can lay out my clothes for the banquet now, if you want," Rebecca said. "I'll wear that white dress." She pointed it out. It had been bought specially for her birthday.

Rebecca watched her new slave-girl lay out her clothes on her bed. Amna had a good body and had been much admired by the boys at school. Yet, as far as Rebecca knew, Amanda, as she was then, never encouraged their attentions. She'd never heard a whisper of scandal against Amanda.

The slave-girl stood one metre seventy in her bare feet. She was slim, only weighing about fifty five kilos, as far as Rebecca could tell. She had light honey-brown hair; pale arms and legs now as if she hadn't seen much sunshine for several weeks. Probably not if she'd just come from the Domo de Korekto.

Rebecca thought for a moment. This was her slave-girl. She owned her. Like she owned her handbag or hairbrush. She could do anything she wanted. She felt powerful yet also worried about her responsibilities. As Amna bustled about the bedroom, she decided to try out some of her authority over the young woman.

She'd seen most of their house slaves naked, of course. And she'd seen Amanda, as was, naked in the communal showers at their private school. But she'd not seen Amna as a naked slave.

"Amna, take off your dress. I want to have a look at my birthday present," she ordered.

Amna stopped laying out her mistress's clothes.

"Bec..., miss?" she said.

"You heard. Take off your clothes. I want to inspect you," she repeated.

Amna's mouth turned down. She hesitated.

"Hurry up, girl," Rebecca ordered. She took the same tone her mother used with her personal slave-girl, Luci. She intended to start off on the right footing with her slave-girl.

Slowly, Amna lifted up her sleeve-less dress over her head and dropped it to the floor next to her. She reached behind her and unhooked her breast band then dropped it onto her dress. She lowered her arms and stood with them by her sides. She looked at her new mistress with watering eyes, but with a hint of defiance in their grey depths.

Amna's breasts were small but pert with delightful well defined pink nipples. They stood proud from her areola.

"Put your hands on your head," Rebecca ordered. The slave-girl's breasts rose on her chest as the young woman did so.

She looked down at the girl's smooth belly focussing on the dark hollow of her belly button. Then even further down at the girl's freshly shaved mound. Totally hairless. Rebecca knew that slaves weren't allowed pubic hair. Most owners thought it was unsightly and unhygienic on their slaves. From what Rebecca saw, Amna seemed to have a neat, tight sex. The girl's legs were long and lean with firm muscles. Rebecca had glimpsed the girl naked before at school, but had never studied her body like this. She was pleased with what she saw.

"Turn around, Amna," she ordered.

The girl did as ordered. She had a strong, lean back. Standing as she was with her hands on her head, Rebecca saw the girl's ribs and backbone. She had a small, pert bottom that complemented her breasts perfectly. A slave-girl of this quality must have cost her father a lot of piastres.

Rebecca decided to use some more of her authority.

"Bend over and spread your buttocks, Amna. I want to inspect you more closely," she said.

The girl whimpered but obeyed. Her hands spread her cheeks to her mistress's gaze.

"Stand with your legs apart," Rebecca further ordered. She stepped closer and crouched down. First, she looked at Amna's puckered rosebud anus. It had also been shaved and looked perfectly clean. The girl's buttocks trembled as she felt her mistress's breath on them.

Amna sobbed with embarrassment. Another girl of her own age with her hand in her privates. It was horrible.

There was enough light coming in through the window to allow Rebecca to make a full inspection. She touched the girl's vaginal opening with her fingertip. Amna hissed; a sharp little sound. She expected to feel her mistress's finger penetrate her. But that never happened.

"Are you a virgin?" Rebecca asked.

"Yes, miss," whispered Amna.

"Good girl."

Rebecca lowered her hand. With one finger, she touched the other girl's clitoris. That most sensitive little button. She flicked Amna's clit. Slowly at first, then a little faster. The girl tried to keep quiet and still but couldn't quite manage it. Rebecca watched the little pink mound of flesh redden and enlarge underneath its hood.

"Do you masturbate, Amna?" Rebecca asked.

"Yes, miss. Sometimes I do," Amna confessed.

Rebecca took her hand away, leaving the girl trembling on the edge. She remembered something she'd overheard her mother say to Luci.

"In future, you will always ask my permission before touching yourself down there. Do you understand?"

"Yes, miss," Amna sobbed with a catch in her voice.

"Now stand up and finish off laying out my clothes," she said, turning away. She watched her naked slave-girl lay out the rest of her clothes. She watched the play of light and shadow cross the girl's lithe body. From her top drawer, the girl took out the lacy underwear Rebecca was going to wear tonight.

Rebecca made a decision. "I'm going to have a shower-bath now. You can undress me and wash me."

"Yes, miss," whispered Amna. Rebecca showed Amna her en-suite bathroom and how to operate the shower's controls. She turned around and waited for her slave-girl to undress her.

Amna unhooked Rebecca's lightweight linen dress then slipped it off over her shoulders and down over her arms and torso. It rested on Rebecca's hips but then with a wriggle it slid down to her ankles. Rebecca stepped out of her dress. She stood naked except for her lacy white brassiere and panties.

"Come on, girl," she said. With fumbling fingers, Amna unclipped Rebecca's brassiere and helped her shrug it off. Then she knelt behind her owner, slipped her fingers into the panties' waistband and lowered them down. The two girls were now naked together. Except that Amna still had her thin, steel slave collar around her neck.

They stepped under the spray. Amna picked up a sponge, lathered it and proceeded to wash her mistress, starting with Rebecca's face.

Rebecca was as tall as Amna, but she had a slightly darker, tanned complexion. She had dark brown hair which flowed over her shoulders in loose curls. Now it was plastered to her back and neck with the shower spray. Working down, Amna saw she the other girl had larger, yet still firm, breasts and broader hips with more rounded buttocks.

Amna knelt, soaped the sponge and washed down Rebecca's legs. As she knelt, spray bounced off her back. Eventually, Amna stood.

"You've missed a bit, girl," Rebecca said.

"Miss?" Amna thought she'd cleaned all her mistress's body.

Rebecca spread her legs. Amna looked up into her mistress's dark brown eyes. She blinked as the water hit her face.

"Use your hands," Rebecca told her.

"Yes, miss," Amna whispered, her voice barely audible above the water. Amna soaped her hand then slipped it between Rebecca's legs. Unlike Amna, Rebecca had pubic hair. It was only considered unhygienic among slaves. Amna rubbed Rebecca's genitals, her slippery, soapy hand washing and cleaning her mistress as ordered. Amna glanced up as she washed. She saw Rebecca close her eyes and arch her back with pleasure.

Amna put more soap on her hand then using one finger only concentrated on Rebecca's clit. She felt heat between Rebecca's legs. She gently stroked that little piece of tender, sensitive flesh.